


if cupid's got a gun

by idolrapper (wonwoo)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Enemies, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7979119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonwoo/pseuds/idolrapper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo starts. He scripted this. “I hate everything about you. You infuriate me every single goddamn day. You get on my nerves like no one else. In another universe, I bet we could’ve been best friends, but you <i>had</i> to be the biggest asshole ever, and I had to be so weak. I hate you, but I also—”</p>
            </blockquote>





	if cupid's got a gun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smallchittaphon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallchittaphon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Winter's Coming](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/227671) by littledeerxing9. 



> this was my first time remixing a fic, and though i didn't do anything particularly innovative, i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it anyway! :*

The day Wonwoo adopts a cat is the day he and Mingyu’s mutual dislike for each other comes to a head.

The cat is an adorable thing, barely a week old, the tiniest one from Joshua’s neighbour’s newborn litter. She has shiny black fur, streaked in white, and eyes the colour of murky green seawater. Wonwoo names her Pumpkin. Soonyoung names her Schmoopiewoopiecuddlepie. Mingyu names her Cat, and occasionally, Motherfucking Piece of Shit Cat. When he gets colourful, Wonwoo covers Pumpkin’s ears with his palms and deadpans, “Language, Mingyu.” In the background, Soonyoung can be heard whining, “My poor baby!”

Wonwoo brings the kitten home in a cardboard box which, by the looks of the furious blush on Joshua’s face when it ended up being the only box he can find in his apartment, previously held a sex toy of some sort. Maybe Joshua’s just feeling warm from the heater blasting through the apartment or maybe he finds Wonwoo attractive, but Wonwoo has always had great intuition. Also, Joshua happens to _tell_ him, when Wonwoo asks, “So, what’d you get?”

He expects Joshua to let slip a flustered chuckle, slap his arm, and give him a line like, “None of your business. Get out of my house.” Instead, Joshua, very bluntly, says, “Anal beads.” Maybe he _is_ attracted to Wonwoo. 

Except Wonwoo doesn’t find out if he is because _his_ face starts to burn, fingers fumbling in their grip around the box, which is Bad because tiny fragile animal, and he hightails his way out of Joshua’s apartment with a hurried, “Have fun with those, hyung!”

 

 

Unsurprisingly, Jihoon is loitering in the living room when Wonwoo enters the house. 

Pumpkin had been mewling from the passenger seat the entire twenty minute drive from Joshua’s place, and Wonwoo, out of some kind of paternal empathy, imitated every pitiful noise she made. 

She grew silent when Wonwoo said, “Awww, I let you ride shotgun. Cheer up, baby.” Then, she poked her head out of the flaps of the box to peer around curiously. Wonwoo had to reach over to gently push her back down, mouth set in a sympathetic downturn. He received a cry in response and goddammit, he was already so weak for the thing.

Which is why he won’t let anyone take her away from him. Not Jihoon rolling his eyes at him from the couch and saying, “What the fuck is this?” Nor Mingyu exiting his room and screaming when Pumpkin teeters across the tiles and bumps her head against his socked toes. Wonwoo will defend her with his life. 

“I’m keeping her,” Wonwoo insists, scooping Pumpkin up into his arms, trying not to squeal at how she’s more fluff than anything else. 

“ _No_ ,” Mingyu shouts. Wonwoo thinks he’s acting like this because it’s practically second nature for him to be contrary to anything Wonwoo says or does. Wonwoo’s well-aware of what an dickwad Mingyu is but he couldn’t possibly hate something so adorable, could he? “I’m calling Soonyoung. You’re taking that thing back to where it came from.” Could he?

Pumpkin buries her head into Wonwoo’s chest, as though she can sense an evil force in the room trying to separate them, and Wonwoo’s heart almost gives out. He gives Mingyu a warm smile. “Let me guess, you’re a dog person?” Wonwoo ventures, his voice calm and even. He takes pride in the way Mingyu seems to fume even more.

“I—so what?” Mingyu sputters.

“It’s pertinent,” Wonwoo says, narrowing his eyes at Mingyu. Mingyu runs a hand through his bed head—judging by the paisley boxers and lack of shirt, he’d just woken up from a nap—and glares back with ten times more spite. “You dog lovers go on and on about how dogs are man’s best friend and all that happy hippie bullshit and yet you hate on all feline-kind like they personally offended you.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “Happy hippie bullshit, huh? You’re one to talk.”

Wonwoo colours. “Stop deflecting. I know you’re the one stealing my smoothies in the morning, Mingyu, and—”

“What if cats did personally offend me?” Mingyu cuts Wonwoo off with a nervous laugh, “What if one scratched me up as a kid and I never recovered from the trauma?”

In his periphery, Wonwoo can see Jihoon looking between them with the detached interest of someone watching a tennis match. This is a common scene in the Kwon household. The only player missing is—Soonyoung bursts through the front door, loudly announcing his presence by screeching, “Who missed me!” and sliding across the tiles into the main room. 

“Great, now that everyone’s here,” Wonwoo starts.

Mingyu points two of his fingers at his eyes, and then at Wonwoo’s. “Group meeting,” he loudly announces.

“Aw, you finish each other’s sentences,” Jihoon mumbles, switching off the episode of Steven Universe he was idly watching on the television.

It’s then that Soonyoung takes notice of Pumpkin mewling against Wonwoo’s chest, the soft cartilage of her ear folded over where his heart beats. He shrieks. Pumpkin claws Wonwoo’s t-shirt, startled. The hissed _fuck_ Wonwoo lets out goes unheard by Soonyoung.

“It’s sooooo cute,” Soonyoung says, making grabby hands over the top of the couch where Wonwoo’s sat down. “I wanna hold.” Pumpkin evades Soonyoung’s attempts to pluck her from Wonwoo’s arms by leaping into Jihoon’s lap, her claws bared, out for blood. 

For a moment, everything is silent, but for the quietest, and guiltiest, of whimpers from Pumpkin. 

Then, Jihoon closes his eyes, inhales noisily, and drops his head back onto the back of the sofa. “I...” he starts, his voice monotone, “am in so much pain right now.”

Wonwoo’s not sure who breathes out, “Oh my God,” but it acts as a catalyst for him to reach over and detach Pumpkin from Jihoon’s crotch. Jihoon doesn't catch the apologetic smile Wonwoo shoots his way—his eyes are squeezed shut still, a single tear trapped in the right corner—so he mutters a quick _sorry, Jihoonie!_ and makes a run for his bedroom. He passes Mingyu, who follows suit, slipping inside Wonwoo’s room instead of taking the left turn to his own. He shuts the door behind them, locks it, and knocks his head against the door. Sure, they left Soonyoung in the lion’s den, but being Jihoon’s boyfriend has to count for something, right? 

“The cat is tearing this house apart,” Mingyu says, without turning around, his hand still on doorknob. His tone is ominous, and Wonwoo rolls his eyes. 

He places Pumpkin on the bed before gracing Mingyu with a response, reclining flat against the covers so Pumpkin can crawl across him after growing tired of the exploring the unfamiliar environment. “No, she isn’t. Our relationship is tearing this house apart. I vote you off the island, Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu spins around, a hand on his hip. “I moved in first. Besides, Soonyoung would've kicked us out if he had a real problem with our—whatever you wanna call it.”

“Here's the catch," Wonwoo starts, "Soonyoung likes her.” He pointedly holds up Pumpkin. 

There's a crash, the sound of a body hitting the ground, and Soonyoung’s voice filters through the door, “We’re keeping her.”

Wonwoo grins, showing Mingyu more teeth than he does on a usual day.

 

 

It’s a quiet Tuesday evening when Mingyu slams all one thousand pages of _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ onto the service desk at the university library, right next to Wonwoo’s head. Wonwoo startles awake, a half-formed “S-sorry, how can I help you?” already making its way out of his mouth. That is, until he realises the person looming above the counter is Mingyu; someone the _customer comes first_ rule does not apply to. 

Wonwoo digs his knuckles into his eye socket, yawning wide. Mingyu huffs, rapping his hand on the top of the book. Wonwoo says, “Go use the self checkout, Mingyu.” Then he adds, tone patronising, “Do you want me to show you how?”

“No, I want you to scan it,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo slides the book towards Mingyu, ignoring him. “Better yet, why don’t you go put this where you found it? Row 607, by the way. I know you’re never going to open it, let alone read it, and I’m sick of Yujin noona giving me fines to slip under your bedroom door.”

“Yujin noona loves me.”

“You owe us 29 807 won, Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo says dryly. He twists in his seat, letting out a little _ah_ at the pop of his spine. He hasn’t done that since he started his shift at noon.

“Aaaaanyway,” Mingyu drawls, picking the book up, “I’ll just go check this out. Have an awful rest of your shift, hyung.” He sidesteps the counter, letting a student who looks likes they need a coffee more than Wonwoo drop their stack of books onto it. The dust floating up from Baudelaire’s _Les Fleurs du mal_ makes Mingyu sneeze. Though he doesn’t make a move to wipe his palm on Wonwoo, Wonwoo rolls his chair out of Mingyu’s reach anyway. 

“Yah,” Wonwoo calls out, when Mingyu starts to scurry away. He scans a self-help book morbidly titled _So, Your Life Sucks_ and pauses momentarily to offer a sympathetic pout to the student. “Get us dinner on your way home!”

Mingyu turns back, his index finger pressed to his mouth. “Shh, don’t you know we’re in a library, hyung?”

 

 

Pumpkin, who Wonwoo had shut out of his bedroom last night, immediately cosies up to him the second he leaves for his morning piss. She curls her tail around his ankle, gripping, and mewls so adorably that Wonwoo can't find it in himself to shake her off like he has to every evening. He shuffles to the bathroom a millimetre at a time, his bladder close to bursting point, and a short bark of laughter comes from the living room. Before Wonwoo has a chance to give Mingyu the stink eye, he hears the rattle of keys and the front door slamming shut. He frowns—Mingyu doesn’t usually leave this early on Fridays—and pushes the bathroom door open. 

Later, Wonwoo wanders into the kitchen, Pumpkin hot on his heels. There's a note on the countertop which Wonwoo goes for first—he can't translate what _I'm not kicking Princess out without a proper meal_ means in Mingyu speak, until he realises Pumpkin isn't next to him but near the balcony, her face buried in a plate of food. Wonwoo walks over to her, the note scrunched up in his fist. He can tell immediately that the food isn't something out of a can, but homemade, like _proper_ gourmet. He imagines Mingyu waking up at 7AM, wearing that ugly floral apron he likes so much, and standing over the stove. He'd have the radio on at a gentle murmur, humming along to One Direction and the sizzle of salmon, and—there has to be a catch. 

Wonwoo thought Mingyu might've warmed up to Pumpkin after two weeks of her living with them, but if he has, he seems determined not to make it known. And after The Incident last Wednesday, Wonwoo was sure Mingyu would either leave Pumpkin on the doorstep outside their house and lock the door, or find the lease papers in Soonyoung's desk and cross his name out with red ink. 

Last Wednesday, Wonwoo came home from university to chaos:

Mingyu is screaming in the living room, brandishing a rolling pin. Soonyoung is standing in the hallway that branches off into each of their bedrooms. His face is all frowny as he looks down at Pumpkin in his arms. Jihoon is nowhere to be seen. Jihoon doesn’t even live here, but—his voice is yelling, “Soonyoung, get me some bedsheets,” from Mingyu’s room. There he is.

“Bedsheets?” Wonwoo asks.

Mingyu turns to Wonwoo, a manic look in his eyes. “Wonwoo! This is all your fault!”

“Sorry?” Wonwoo says tersely. 

Soonyoung steps forward. “Pumpkin took a dump on his bed.”

“On Mingyu’s?” Wonwoo clarifies, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Yes! Mine!”

Wonwoo goes over to Mingyu, places a hand on his shoulder, and takes the rolling pin out his hand. “She was just scared,” he explains.

“Hyuuuuung, you know I hate people on my bed,” Mingyu whines, grabbing Wonwoo by the shoulders, “And the cat freaking shat on it.” He shakes Wonwoo. “Why _me_! I swear, it’s got a revenge plot planned against me.”

Wonwoo twists around to smile fondly at Pumpkin, who looks like she’s found bliss in the kangaroo pouch of Soonyoung’s hoodie. That isn’t the face of a kitten with an agenda. Still, “She takes after her father.”

“Shut up, hyung. I thought you were toilet training it,” Mingyu says. He’s still a bit red in the face, but he’s breathing evenly now.

“I am. Told you, it was only a defence mechanism.” Wonwoo's hands clasping themselves around Mingyu’s wrists. “Did you scare her?”

Mingyu sticks out his bottom lip, and Wonwoo’s laugh cuts short. He lets go of Mingyu’s wrists and steps backward, suddenly aware that he’d practically been stepping on Mingyu’s toes. “Do you want to borrow my Superman bedsheets?” he offers. His face burns. 

“That way, if the cat does her business on my bed it’ll be on _your_ bedsheets?” Mingyu asks, beaming.

“That’s not what I meant!” Wonwoo shouts, when Mingyu speeds past Soonyoung to the linen closet. “That’s not what I meant,” he tells Soonyoung, and Soonyoung nods in mock sympathy. 

 

 

Wonwoo opens the fridge, taking out the bento box he’d packed the night before. He mindlessly reaches into the door shelf for his smoothie—his eyes are on the slab of carrot cake sitting behind the eggs, and he hopes Mingyu used the gluten free flour Wonwoo bought because he’s _definitely_ stealing a slice later—and his hand grabs at thin air. He groans, muttering aloud, “I put fucking beetroot in there because I know he hates it. It was red!” 

“Talking to yourself, Wonwoo?” someone says airily. It’s Jihoon, entering the room in a baggy sweatshirt and a bright hickey on his neck. 

“Morning, Jihoonie,” Wonwoo says, sighing. He opens the first drawer to take out chopsticks and decides to spare Jihoon the Mingyu Rant. “Didn’t realise you stayed the night. Didn’t hear—” 

Jihoon picks Pumpkin up, letting her snuggle against his chest. She purrs, sleepy-full from her meal. He sighs. “If you must know, Soonyoung sucked my dick.”

“Nice,” Wonwoo laughs. “I didn’t need to know that.” 

After a period of comfortable silence between them, Jihoon’s eyes dart to Soonyoung’s closed door, and he leans in closer, his stool almost tipping over. “Has—do you know if Soonyoung’s upset with me?” he asks. 

Wonwoo flicks on the kettle. “Coffee?” he asks, holding up a Moomin mug. It comes in a set and it’s the only crockery they own because it was Soonyoung who first moved into this place and made all the decorating decisions.

Jihoon nods, running a hand through his blonde hair in a harried manner. 

Wonwoo spoons a heap of instant coffee into the mug, and Jihoon sighs, and he adds another spoon. Then, he answers Jihoon's question, even though, honestly, he has no idea if Soonyoung’s upset with Jihoon. “He might be. Have you talked to him?”

“I _tried_ to.”

“Good job, Jihoon,” Wonwoo interrupts him, smiling.

Jihoon snorts. “He told me I didn’t need to. And that it wasn’t important.”

“And then you said, _but you’re important, Soonyounggie_ , right?” 

“Uh no, why would I say something like that.”

“It's romantic,” Wonwoo explains.

“You’re the least romantic person I know, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “Am I? You’re deflecting.”

“You’re bad at advice,” Jihoon says, tone playful. “Let’s forget this happened.”

Wonwoo pushes the Moomin mug, now brimful of steaming coffee, towards Jihoon. He grins. “But I make a good Americano.”

Jihoon picks it up, takes a sip, and lifts the mug up in cheers.

 

 

If someone asked Wonwoo when he started to hate Mingyu, he'd say it was because Mingyu started to hate him first, and Mingyu would cite the group project they were forced to do together in their first year. 

Wonwoo didn’t know Mingyu then but Mingyu knew him. “You’re Soonyoung’s friend, Jeon Wonwoo,” Mingyu had said, plonking down in the seat next to Wonwoo’s after coming into class late and taking a long and deliberative look at the partner list taped to the whiteboard. 

It’s not even a question, so Wonwoo doesn’t bother providing Mingyu with an answer. He tugs his notebook out of his backpack, and says, “And you are?”

“I’m Mingyu,” Mingyu says, sticking out his hand. “I’m your partner.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo replies, tone curt. The class is a 9AM and he'd dropped his salad bowl onto the pavement on the way here, the salad with the quinoa he’d paid an extra 1100 won for, and then it started to rain and he didn't even have an umbrella on him. 

So, he's sitting here with water-streaked glasses and a grumbling stomach and a very loud and annoying and big person attempting to engage in small talk with him when he's trying his best to listen to their lecturer drone on about microorganisms. He doesn't know what compelled him to take a Level I biology elective when he's a fucking lit major, and he'll never understand why Soonyoung's friend type is Loud and Annoying, but the point is: Mingyu's first impression of him wasn't a good one.

 

 

 _Slam_. The _Odyssey_ lands on top of Wonwoo's lecture notes. Wonwoo glances up, unsurprised to see Mingyu looming above him for the second time this week. "Are you lost, Mingyu?" he taunts, "I didn't even realise you knew where the library was." It's a low blow, and they both know it. Mingyu might look like an airhead but his GPA is higher than Wonwoo's; a fact Wonwoo reminds himself of during every mid-semester slump. Bitterness can be quite the motivation.

Mingyu's eyebrows furrow. His skin has an unusual, waxy quality to it like he’s spent hours in some dusty corner of the library where sunlight doesn’t reach. Wonwoo recognises the look. Not for the first time this week, he wants to apologise or ask Mingyu if he's okay or tell him that the carpet under the service desk, although musty, is a great napping spot, and would he like to curl up at Wonwoo's feet maybe? But Wonwoo's never said those kinds of things before, so why start now? He places a hand on the _Odyssey_ , his thumb brushing against a painted arrow tip on the cover, and quietly asks, "Do you want me to scan this for you?"

"I don't want to borrow it," Mingyu says, "I just wanted an excuse to talk to you." Wonwoo expects Mingyu to tack on a _ha ha, because I wouldn't be caught dead speaking to you otherwise_ , but he doesn't, and Wonwoo's heart stutters in his chest. 

"Oh, okay. Do you want to si—" he cuts himself off when Mingyu makes his way around to Wonwoo's side, crawling under the desk. 

He's too large—his knees tucked in tight and his neck bent so he doesn't hit his head—but the way he grins up at Wonwoo and says, "Yujin noona told me it was comfortable under here," stops Wonwoo from telling him to get out.

"What's up?" Wonwoo says. He rests his forehead on the arm he's placed on the edge of the desk. This late at night, no one's borrowing books and he figures his attention can be spared for however long Mingyu wants to talk to him.

"I just—" Mingyu starts. His skull knocks against the underside of the counter in his haste to answer Wonwoo's question. "I wanted to know... why don't you like me, hyung?"

Wonwoo lets out a long exhale. "That's a loaded question. You want me to make a list?"

"Sure," Mingyu says, his palms cupping his face.

"What's gotten into you," Wonwoo mutters. "Why don't you like _me_?"

"I can make you a list, too," Mingyu says, smiling. "Soonyoung hyung told me I had to 'get to the heart of things', quote unquote, and I think this is the best way to go about it!"

"Why'd you go to Soonyoung for advice?"

Mingyu pauses. “Oh, no reason,” he answers. His tone is too bright, too bright to be directed at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo wants to call Mingyu out on his lie, but there’s an aching weight in his eyelids, and he doesn’t feel like arguing when they’re both so tired. Instead, he drawls, “Oooookay. You can get out now you giant lump,” punctuating the last statement with a kick to Mingyu’s shin.

“But—” Mingyu tries to argue. He’s interrupted by his own yawn.

“I have to shut up in ten. Meet me outside?”

“Alright, hyung,” Mingyu agrees. He hauls himself up, a hand braced on Wonwoo’s knee. “Thai for dinner?”

 

 

Faced with the task of articulating what he dislikes about Mingyu, Wonwoo’s mind draws a blank. 

He takes his notebook and his pen and his Pumpkin and wanders down the hallway to Soonyoung’s room. Soonyoung is sprawled across his bed on his laptop. He barely looks up when Wonwoo walks in, but he shuffles to the side to give Wonwoo space to sit down next to him. Wonwoo crosses his legs, and Pumpkin hops onto the mattress, settling into his lap. 

Soonyoung grabs Wonwoo’s notebook from where he left it on the bed. “ _101 reasons why I hate Kim Mingyu_ ,” he reads aloud. He raises an eyebrow at Wonwoo. “Why?”

“He's doing the same for me,” Wonwoo argues. “Besides, wasn’t this your idea?”

“What, no—ohhhh," Under his breath, Soonyoung says, “He wasn’t meant to take me literally.”

“Whatever, help me out,” Wonwoo says, pulling Soonyoung’s cheek. It springs back tinted pink when he lets go.

“This can only end in tears,” Soonyoung laughs. He snaps his fingers. “Alright, get cracking then, meanie.”

For the next ten minutes, they sit in silence; Wonwoo scrawling what is essentially a eulogy across two pages, Soonyoung giggling at panda videos on Youtube, and Pumpkin perched on the small of Soonyoung’s back, picking apart his knit sweater with her claws. Soonyoung doesn’t realise what Pumpkin’s doing and Wonwoo doesn’t bother telling him; the sweater is an eyesore, a putrid green and patterned in yellow dots, and he’ll be glad to see it go. 

Then, Wonwoo remembers his conversation with Jihoon the other morning. “Are you upset with Jihoon?” he asks.

“Huh?” Soonyoung drags his eyes away from the laptop screen. “When was I?”

“On Friday,” Wonwoo clarifies.

“Oh, yeah,” Soonyoung says. “He said my essay for Issues in Contemporary Education was crap.” 

“The one you were really proud of?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a big deal,” Soonyoung says, shrugging. “I got where he was coming from after he explained himself better.”

Wonwoo nods. Soonyoung grins.

“See, that’s what couples do. Couples who stay together, at least. They forgive each other. They don’t hold grudges. They listen.”

“Are you trying to make a point? Mingyu and I aren’t a couple.”

Soonyoung reaches up to pull Wonwoo’s cheek like Wonwoo had done to him. “No, you’re both idiots.”

 

 

The first thing Wonwoo adds to the list is: Mingyu’s height.

He’s shelving books in Row 311—contemporary Chinese literature—when Mingyu walks into the library, combing through every row to find him.

“There you are, Wonwoo hyung,” Mingyu says cheerily. Then he clears his throat, and repeats the statement with more contempt. “Ready to exchange lists?”

Wonwoo picks up _Love in a Fallen City_. It goes at the very top of the shelf and he’d forgotten to grab the step ladder. Distractedly, he replies, “Decided to give it to you in fragments. That way I won’t bruise your poor little ego too much.”

“ _Mine_? Nice excuse,” Mingyu laughs.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, standing on his tip toes to place the book on the top shelf. “Here’s number one: your height.”

Suddenly, all six foot one of Mingyu comes to stand behind Wonwoo, chest flush against Wonwoo’s back. His hands hook themselves under Wonwoo’s armpits, and he lifts. “Insecure?” he drawls.

“Put me the fuck down,” Wonwoo breathes. His cheeks flush with anger. Mingyu obliges, leaning against the bookshelf. Wonwoo pokes a finger into his chest. “See, this is why I hate your height. I’m not that much shorter than you. In _fact_ , I’m a pretty tall guy. But _I’m_ not obnoxious enough to go around picking people up without their permission.”

“I don’t do it to everyone,” Mingyu says. “Only you.” He plucks _Love in a Fallen City_ out of Wonwoo’s hand and tucks it into its spot on the self with ease. “Number one on my list is...” 

“What,” Wonwoo snaps.

“How thin you are,” Mingyu finishes. “I could break you in half.” He starts to moonwalk his way out of Row 311, dodging the swipe Wonwoo aims for his arm. Once he’s at the end, he adds, “And you’d probably like it.”

 

 

Mingyu works really hard.

Their group project had been a presentation on GMOs and they were given a month to complete it.

A week before the deadline, Wonwoo makes a smoothie with literally every fruit and vegetable he can salvage from the dorm fridge that isn’t half covered in mould, pulls a face when he takes a sip of the concoction, and hopes for the best. His Docs slam heavily against the pavement as he stalks his way to Mingyu’s dormitory, like he’s Bigfoot or something.

He beats his fist against Mingyu’s door, yelling his name over and over again. Someone’s head pokes out at the end of the hall. They take one look at him and turn up their nose. Wonwoo tries not to stick out his tongue. They probably think he’s a drug dealer. It wouldn’t be a first. But the only drugs he’s dealing are stress and super smoothies!

Finally, Mingyu opens his door. He’s wearing a blue singlet and his hair is wet. Wonwoo ignores everything, holding up the smoothie. “We’re working on the project. _Now_.”

Mingyu holds the door open for Wonwoo, then sits down at desk, his fingers steepled. “Alright, boss,” he says, “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know. GMO and stuff.”

Mingyu opens up his laptop and titles a blank document ‘GMO and stuff’. 

“Ha ha. Funny,” Wonwoo deadpans. He rolls over Mingyu’s roommate's chair so he can sit next to Mingyu.

Mingyu just chuckles, without replying. He doesn’t reply because he’s too busy opening up a powerpoint presentation, the first slide of which reads, ‘ _GM-Nope_ : A Critique of the GMO Industry by Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu’. The first of _twenty four_ fucking slides. 

“What the fuck,” Wonwoo says.

“You know, you shouldn’t procrastinate so much, hyung,” Mingyu says, scratching the nape of his neck sheepishly. He opens the smoothie bottle. The _crack_ of the lid of resounds through the room.

Mingyu works really hard, but he’s also a snake who doesn’t know the meaning of _teamwork_.

 

 

Wonwoo hates that Mingyu is so irritably good with his hands.

On Saturday night, Mingyu helps Soonyoung cook pasta for dinner, which means Soonyoung sitting on the counter, butchering songs like _Physical_ , while Mingyu cooks pasta for dinner. Wonwoo, who’d been lazing around in bed all day, dawdles his way into the kitchen, still in his pyjamas. He takes a seat next to Jihoon at the round dinner table.

“You look like shit,” Jihoon says.

“Thanks. Feel like it too.”

They chat until Soonyoung brings over the food, and he and Mingyu sit. 

“You look like shit, hyung,” Mingyu comments. 

“I look great,” Wonwoo replies. His fingers rub at the pillow creases on his cheek.

Mingyu heaps a couple heaped spoons of ravioli onto Wonwoo’s plate. “Eat up. You’ll feel better.”

Jihoon laughs. Soonyoung echoes, “You’ll feel better,” in a high pitched voice. 

Wonwoo hates that Mingyu can pick things up so easily when Wonwoo can barely boil an egg himself. He hates how Mingyu’s calloused palms feel on his skin. He hates that he knows how Mingyu feels because Mingyu is so touchy and holds Wonwoo’s hand, sometimes, when they’re fighting and Mingyu has to lower them when they’re flailing, or on the way home from the library, because it’s dark and they don’t want to lose each other. 

And most of all, Wonwoo hates that he likes it.

He stabs his fork into a piece of ravioli. The aroma hits him immediately, and he narrows his eyes at Mingyu. “Something smells fishy around here.” 

Mingyu, who’d been trying to look innocent, sputters a laugh. “It’ll taste good.”

Wonwoo takes a hesitant bite, while the others dig in with no qualms.

It’s fish. His face colours. He’d just been thinking all those thoughts about Kim Mingyu, and the same Kim Mingyu put fucking fish in his pasta.

Wonwoo puts down his fork and pushes his chair back. If the screech it makes doesn’t get across how pissed he is, he hopes stalking away with an exasperated _excuse me_ does.

“I HATE THAT YOU HATE SEAFOOD!” Mingyu yells.

“Whatever!” Wonwoo yells back.

Later, someone knocks on the door. “Come in,” Wonwoo mumbles, barely audible. He’s laying on his stomach, his arm hanging off the edge of his bed. Pumpkin is lounging between his legs.

“Hey,” Mingyu’s voice says. Wonwoo doesn’t bother telling him to leave, and Mingyu walks in, sitting on the other side of the bed. Pumpkin greets him with a _meow_. “Hi, cat.”

“What do you want?” Wonwoo says, his voice muffled with the way his face is squished into the mattress.

“I’m sorry. For earlier.”

“Sorry? I don't know what that means?”

Mingyu ignores that. “I made you seafood-free pasta. Like I always do. I just thought it’d be funny—”

“Al _right_ ,” Wonwoo cuts him off. “Stop grovelling.” He pushes himself up, rolling over carefully so he doesn’t squash Pumpkin. She darts away from him anyway, leaping onto Mingyu’s lap. Naturally, Mingyu shrieks. 

“Get her off me,” he says, quietly. 

“Aw, c’mon. Isn’t she cute?” Wonwoo reaches over to pick Pumpkin up, butting her head against Mingyu’s chest. “Wanna try holding her?”

Mingyu frowns at Pumpkin, deliberating. “Okayyyy.” He holds up his arms, like a stiff cradle, and Wonwoo places Pumpkin in them. 

He’s frozen at first, but Pumpkin’s tail curls around his wrist, and she purrs, and it’s like a spell’s been cast over Mingyu. He lifts her up, stroking her spine. Smiling, he says, “She smells like lavender.”

Wonwoo hums. “She likes to nap under the bush outside our house.”

Then, Mingyu says, “Pasta’s in the microwave, hyung. You can leave me now.”

 

 

Wonwoo hates Mingyu’s teeth.

His stupid sharp canines that extend past the rest of his top row. How white they are, like fresh snow. How the front two are a little crooked and pieces of lettuce always get stuck between them when they get barbecue together and Wonwoo never tells Mingyu and Mingyu whines, “Hyuuuuung! I seriously hate you,” when he gets home and looks in the mirror by their front door. 

Wonwoo hates his goofy puppy grin. 

But tonight, with his dark hair pushed back and his smoky eyelids, Mingyu looks like a wolf. 

Wonwoo is curled up on the loveseat in the living room, reading Murakami under a dimmed lamp while Pumpkin naps on her cat bed. Soonyoung and Jihoon are in Soonyoung’s room, the door locked, and Mingyu had gone to a frat party on campus. Wonwoo’s trying to quell the strange loneliness that had come with sundown with a book but it isn’t really working. He almost lights up when the front door opens, banging loudly against the opposite wall, and Mingyu stumbles through the house, making a beeline for Wonwoo.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” Mingyu says, flopping onto the loveseat next to Wonwoo. He stretches forward until Wonwoo can practically taste the alcohol on his breath, and grins. “Did you miss me?”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer him, loosely pushing Mingyu’s shoulder with his book. “I really hate your smile. Your teeth.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu leans in even closer, if possible. His bottom lip brushes against Wonwoo’s earlobe. Wonwoo expects him to stop there. But he moves lower, teeth dragging along the side of Wonwoo’s neck. “You know what I hate about you?” Mingyu dips his head down, and attaches his mouth to the slender bone jutting out at the base of Wonwoo’s throat. He bites, and sucks, moves to the other side, bites and sucks, and says, “Your collarbones. They’re so pweeeeeeetty.”

Wonwoo exhales. “Okay. You can stop now.”

Mingyu’s hand travels down Wonwoo’s side, squeezing Wonwoo’s hip. “You shivered, hyung.” He smiles, and his fangs poke out, so dumb and so so so charming. “I win.”

“This isn’t a competition,” Wonwoo replies, when Mingyu gets up, his face gone green, and the bathroom door slams shut. 

And even if it was, why does he keep letting Mingyu win?

 

 

“It’s so cold outside,” is the first thing Mingyu says when he walks into the library.

Wonwoo waves at him, the loose sleeve of his sweater dropping to his elbow. “Hey, Mingyu.”

Mingyu looks taken aback. “You’re in a good mood today,” he comments, unwrapping his tartan scarf. “Can I sit?”

Wonwoo holds his hand out, nodding. “I like winter,” Wonwoo belatedly replies, when Mingyu sits on the edge of the counter. His elbow digs into Mingyu’s thigh, his chin in his palm. 

“Tell me your favourite quote again,” Mingyu asks. He fiddles with the hem of Wonwoo’s sleeve. “The one from _Alice in Wonderland_.”

Wonwoo clears his throat, and recites, “‘I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, _Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again._ ’ How do you even remember it.”

Wonwoo had been over at Mingyu’s place to practice their presentation. They took a half hour break and Wonwoo sprawled himself across Mingyu’s bed, plucking out the tasseled bookmark from his copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ , and read aloud where he’d left off because Mingyu wanted him to.

“Just do,” Mingyu says, with a shrug. He pokes a pinkie through a hole in Wonwoo’s sweater. “I hate when you wear your sleeves like this. It’s cute.” He wraps his thumb and forefinger around Wonwoo’s wrist. His silver ring is cool against the bone. 

“That’s a contradiction,” Wonwoo points out.

“You’re a contradiction,” Mingyu replies, letting Wonwoo’s hand drop onto his knee.

 

 

“He keeps flirting with me,” Wonwoo groans, knocking his forehead onto the service desk. “I think.”

Yujin perches herself next to his head. She combs a hand through his hair, and pulls a face when she realises it’s greasy. She wipes her palm on his t-shirt. “Who, Mingyu?”

“Yeah, that sleazebag. Does he thinks it’s funny?”

“Wonwoo,” Yujin starts. She says his name in the same way she’d say _darling_ or _sweetheart_. “I’m sure he’s dead serious.”

“Sure.”

“You two look good together.”

“Ha,” Wonwoo sniffs. Then, “We do?”

 

 

“Alright, ready for the last reason on the list?” Wonwoo announces, entering the living room where Mingyu’s sitting on the couch, wrapped in a colourful throw. His eyebrows are set in a droopy downturn as he stares blankly at the television. His expression makes Wonwoo pause. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Mingyu sighs. “Had a bad day.”

Wonwoo sits down next to Mingyu. “Well, this will make you feel better.” He wrings his hands, and adds, “Maybe.”

Mingyu buries his face even further into the blanket. “Not in the mood, hyung,” he moans.

“Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo starts. He scripted this. “I hate everything about you. You infuriate me every single goddamn day. You get on my nerves like no one else. In another universe, I bet we could’ve been best friends, but you _had_ to be the biggest asshole ever, and I had to be so weak. I hate you, but I also—”

“Save it, Wonwoo,” Mingyu abruptly cuts him off, standing up. “I get it, you hate my guts.” The blanket pools around his waist. He tightens it, turns on his heel, and storms off. 

Wonwoo runs after him, slipping into Mingyu’s bedroom before he can shut the door on him. “Are you kidding? Why are you so hot and cold? You couldn’t let me finish?”

“I’m sad, hyung, tell me a joke,” Mingyu says, apropos of nothing.

“What?” Wonwoo says, raising an eyebrow. Mingyu pouts. “Um, okay, one man walks into an apartment. He tells the guy who lives there that he’s looking for a cat. The guy says, ‘well, you’re in luck, I just got a fresh batch in this morning’. The man picks out a cat. She’s the one who clings to him the most. She’s sort of annoying, but she’s cute, and she reminds the man of someone he knows.”

“Wonwoo—”

Wonwoo holds up a finger, and continues. He’s not going to let Mingyu cut his confession short a second time, when he already feels like he’s losing every scrap of pride he has doing this. “The guy who lives in the apartment tries to look for a box to put the cat in. He’s only able to find one, and he’s not happy about it. The man is curious about what this box used to contain. He asks. The guy says...” Wonwoo pauses, before delivering the punchline. Mingyu’s eyes are wide. “‘Anal beads’.”

Mingyu cracks up, flopping sideways onto his bed. “Joshua hyung? He _told_ you that?”

Wonwoo grins. “Yeah, he did.” He waits for Mingyu’s laughter to die down, a breathlessness in his chest as he goes on to say, “Want me to tell you the real joke, Mingyu? The list. I don't hate any of those things about you. I like them, I really, really like them. I like _you_.”

Mingyu covers his ears, groaning. “You’re sooooooo corny.”

Wonwoo swats at his leg. “Yah. I’m putting my heart on the line here.”

Mingyu sits up then, shuffling closer to Wonwoo. “No kidding, hyung. Who hates someone because they remember little details about them that no one else does? That was a direct quote, by the way.”

Wonwoo folds his arms across his chest. “It could be creepy.”

“Not to you.”

“If you knew all along, why did you brush me off earlier?”

Mingyu frowns. “I was—I _was_ in a sucky mood and like, I started to doubt everything. I thought maybe I’d just made things up, and the list was actually real and that you—”

Wonwoo leans forward, pressing his mouth against Mingyu’s. Mingyu doesn’t tense up like Wonwoo expects him to, but eases into the kiss like he’d wanted this all along. This is what's real.

Then, there’s the sound of claws scratching down the door, and the low whine of a cat not wanting to be left out. Wonwoo sighs, and pulls away from Mingyu to let Pumpkin in. On the bed, Mingyu stares up at the ceiling, and mutters, “I hate that cat.”

**Author's Note:**

> this entire fic was a projection of my current meanie feelings ♡


End file.
